Shukan didn't finish the sentence.
Because the glyphs under his boots— The ones that'd been dead?
Flickered.
Once.
Then—
A light tore the air open a few feet away. Silent. Quick. Like reality got lazy and just gave up holding itself together.
Chronos stepped through first.
Armor scraped the ground. His posture wasn't rushed— but it sure as hell wasn't casual either.
"...Chronos?" Shukan blinked. "Yo, about time—"
Then Yurei stepped out behind him.
No limping. No bleeding.
Just… off.
Like she wasn't walking so much as she was already there.
Shukan's mouth opened— then closed again.
"You good?" he finally asked.
Yurei looked at him.
Didn't answer right away.
Then:
"We saw something."
"That's vague as hell. Even for you."
Chronos was already scanning the glyph field again, armor pulsing with soft light.
"We weren't the target," he muttered.
"Yeah? Then who was?"
Yurei moved past them. Quiet.
Stopped near the old campfire and just stood there.
Not trembling.
Just… processing.
"Anchor-Born," she said under her breath.
Aetheron looked up, brow raised.
"I've heard of 'em," he said. "Didn't think they were real."
"They are," Yurei replied, voice flat. "And one found us."
Shukan walked up beside Chronos.
"So? What now? You two just drop that info and ghost out again?"
Chronos didn't respond.
He was crouched now, hand brushing through the dirt.
There were marks there.
Thin lines. Curved in shapes that weren't natural.
Not like someone carved them.
More like something tried to replicate a memory—and failed halfway through.
"They left something behind," he muttered.
"Who?" Shukan asked.
Chronos stood up, dusting his fingers off.
"The clones. Before the tether broke."
"They dropped a souvenir?"
"No. A trail."
He turned, facing the opposite direction from the rift they'd come from.
"They're still connected to something. We just pulled the anchor too early."
Shukan groaned.
"Let me guess. Now we gotta chase the connection?"
"Yeah."
"Great."
Yurei finally turned from the fire.
Her eyes were sharper now.
Not Zeyth-sharp. Not glowing.
Just focused. Cold in a way Shukan hadn't seen since the early days.
"Whatever's doing this… it's not done."
"No shit."
"It's not trying to kill us. It's trying to overwrite us. One by one."
Chronos glanced at her.
"The tether's broken. It's adapting. And we need to move before it finishes the next version."
Aetheron stood up with a grunt, his wings flickering back into motion.
"And here I thought I'd get a break."
Shukan cracked his knuckles, sighed hard.
"Breaks are for people not trapped in glitchspace hell with clone problems and anchor demons."
He looked at all of them.
"So we heading out, or we waiting for the sky to tear open again?"
Chronos turned toward the trail. The glyphs lit faintly beneath his feet.
"We move."
Yurei followed without a word.
Aetheron gave a lazy shrug, already stepping into line.
And Shukan?
He rolled his shoulders back, popped his neck, and muttered:
"Let's go break something else."
The glyph trail wasn't glowing anymore.
But it pulsed—every few seconds—like a dying heartbeat trying to keep rhythm.
Chronos walked ahead, steps smooth, calculated.
Behind him, Aetheron floated just above the dirt, wings folded in.
Yurei followed next.
Silent. One hand near her hip, the other brushing the edge of her jacket like she was making sure she was still real.
Shukan brought up the rear.
"So," he muttered, voice just loud enough to carry. "Anchor-Born, huh?"
No one answered.
He kicked a rock.
It skidded a few feet—then vanished.
Not like it fell down a hole.
It just blipped.
Out.
"...Okay that's not normal," he muttered.
Chronos stopped up ahead. Raised a hand.
They all froze.
"Ahead," he said.
"Movement?" Aetheron asked.
"No. Worse."
Shukan walked up beside him, squinting into the horizon.
There—just barely visible—was something massive half-buried in the ground.
Metal. Curved. Covered in moss and runes.
And chained.
"That's an anchor," Yurei whispered.
"A big one," Aetheron muttered. "How's it just… sitting there?"
"It's not," Chronos replied. "It's holding something down."
They stepped closer.
And the closer they got, the heavier everything felt.
Like walking through memory foam made of gravity.
Even Aetheron's wings dipped a little.
Shukan exhaled hard.
"Alright. I'll say it—this place sucks."
Yurei didn't respond.
She was staring at the base of the anchor.
Not at the runes or chains.
But at the footprints.
Dozens of them.
All leading away from it.
But none leading toward it.
"Those weren't ours," she muttered.
"They shouldn't be anyone's," Chronos added. "This realm's sealed."
"Tell that to whoever left the reverse trail."
Then—
From beneath the anchor…
A sound.
Not a growl. Not a voice.
More like a drip.
A single, deep echo.
Like a soul being poured into a jar.
Yurei's breath hitched.
Just for a second.
The feeling flared again in her chest—Zeyth.
A flicker. A pulse.
The edge of the edge.
Then—
Gone.
Just like that.
She stepped back.
"No," she whispered. "Not yet."
Aetheron looked over.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she said too fast.
"You sure?"
"I said I'm fine."
Chronos walked to the anchor's edge, crouching low.
There was something wedged beneath one of the links.
He pried it out with one armored hand—tossed it to Shukan.
"A mirror?"
Shukan turned it over.
No reflection.
Only static.
And a faint image of—
"Wait. That's… that's me?"
The mirror showed a blurred, flickering version of Shukan.
Except his eyes were white.
And he was smiling too wide.
"...The hell is this?"
"Anchor-bound artifact," Chronos replied. "Residual imprint."
"So what, a haunted mirror?"
"Or a warning."
Yurei stood completely still now.
She wasn't looking at the anchor anymore.
She was staring past it.
Into the trees beyond the ridge.
"It's not over," she whispered. "That thing we saw—it never left."
Shukan followed her gaze.
"I don't see anything."
"Exactly," she muttered. "It's waiting for us to make the next move."
Chronos stood up.
"Then let's make it."
They stood at the edge of it.
The ground dipped down into a spiral—like the world had melted and collapsed inward, forming a pit too symmetrical to be natural.
The anchor they'd found?
It wasn't alone.
Now that they were closer, they could see the other ends of the chains. Sunk into the floor.
Wrapped around nothing.
But held tight.
Like whatever it used to hold was still trying to move.
Shukan squinted.
"Okay. Anyone wanna explain why it looks like the planet's trying to digest itself?"
Chronos didn't answer. Neither did Aetheron.
Yurei stepped forward.
And for a moment—
She didn't look like a fighter.
She looked like someone remembering a place she didn't want to.
"This is an Anchor Chamber," she said quietly.
The others turned.
"You've seen one before?" Aetheron asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "Once. And I never wanted to again."
The glyphs on the wall were older than anything they'd seen so far. Not from Shunogai, But an Dravai script.
Twisting. Slow. Heavy.
Like every word was a memory too ashamed to speak aloud.
"This place isn't meant to seal energy," Yurei said.
"It seals identity."
Shukan raised a brow.
"The hell does that mean?"
"It means…" She looked at the chains. At the runes. At the spiral in the ground.
"...if you stay too long, it doesn't erase you. It rewrites you into something that never had a choice."
Silence.
The air felt heavier now. Not colder. Just... denser.
Aetheron's wings dimmed.
Chronos stepped closer, examining one of the glyph lines.
"It's syncing," he said. "Trying to calibrate to us."
Yurei nodded slowly.
"That's what Anchor Chambers do. They feel who you are… then ask if you're sure."
Shukan muttered:
"Yeah, well, I'm sure I don't wanna be rewritten into a moaning anchor freak."
Yurei didn't laugh.
She looked serious.
Almost too serious.
"It starts with small things," she said. "You'll forget why you came here. Then you'll forget who you came with. Then it starts to offer you memories you wish you had."
Aetheron grimaced.
"Memory-bait. Cute."
"Dangerous," Chronos added. "Especially for people with regrets."
They all looked at Shukan.
He blinked.
"Okay, that's rude."
The wind shifted.
No actual breeze.
But a pull—from deeper inside the spiral.
And down there, in the center?
Another anchor.
Bigger than the first.
But cracked.
Leaking something black and gold—like time that'd gone bad.
Chronos narrowed his eyes.
"If this thing's tied to the Core, that might be the last lock."
"Then let's break it and bounce," Shukan said.
Yurei raised a hand.
"No."
Everyone turned.
She stepped ahead of them—one boot in the spiral already.
"If you break an anchor wrong," she said, "it doesn't release what's inside."
She paused.
"It releases the version of you it already made."
They'd stopped walking.
The anchor chamber pulsed in quiet waves—like the room was breathing with them. Or waiting for them to breathe wrong.
In the center: that cracked, jagged anchor. Leaking light that didn't glow. It just pressed.
Shukan rubbed the back of his neck. His boots scraped stone, scuffed against the spiraled path leading down.
"This place gives me a migraine I haven't earned yet," he muttered.
Chronos didn't respond. He was studying the chains on the wall again.
Aetheron hovered closer to the inner edge of the spiral.
"So this is one of those... anchor things, right?"
Yurei didn't answer right away.
She just stared at the ground.
Her face had changed.
Like a tension was sitting behind her eyes, and she was trying not to acknowledge it.
Shukan noticed.
"Hey. Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting off since we hit the first step."
"I'm fine," she said.
"You're not fine."
"Shut up, Shukan."
"Not until you explain why you almost ghosted mid-run back there."
Yurei sighed, looking up at the cracked anchor, then back at him.
"It was Zeyth," she muttered.
That shut him up.
Aetheron leaned forward slightly.
"Zeyth? Wait, I thought that was like... combat adrenaline or something?"
Chronos spoke now. Calm. Crisp.
"It's older than that," he said. "It's a reflex. Buried under instinct. Kicks in when death gets too close to ignore."
"So like, a second wind?"
"No. Zeyth doesn't help you win. It makes sure your body doesn't die before your mind catches up."
Shukan blinked slowly.
"That's horrifying."
"Accurate," Chronos said.
Yurei crossed her arms. The frost curling off her sleeve didn't hiss like usual.
"It's not a transformation. It's not energy. It's just... efficiency. Everything clicks. Everything hurts. And for a few seconds, it's like the universe lets you cheat."
No one said anything for a moment.
The glyphs on the wall shifted again.
Shukan squinted up at them.
"So, if that's what triggered back there... why'd it stop?"
Yurei looked away.
"Because I wasn't in danger anymore."
She paused.
"Zeyth doesn't stay unless the world thinks you're worth keeping."
That landed harder than it should've.
Even Aetheron didn't try to lighten it.
He just floated back a step, wings dimmed. Processing.
Then— a sound.
Like a hook dragging through gravel. Long. Slow. Low.
Chronos turned instantly. Eyes locked up the spiral.
"We're not alone."
"Of course we're not," Shukan muttered. "God forbid we get one break."
From the shadows above—
It stepped into view.
That towering figure.
No face.
No voice.
Just a body built out of weight.
And behind it?
An anchor.
Massive. Too real. Too present.
Dragging across the stone like it had nowhere better to be—but it was still coming anyway.
Yurei didn't flinch.
Didn't breathe.
Chronos stepped closer to her, but didn't say anything.
He knew this wasn't his to explain.
Shukan? He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
"That's the thing from earlier. Right? Same one?"
Yurei didn't look at him.
"It followed us."
Aetheron floated a little higher, wings arcing faint light into the upper ring.
"It hasn't attacked. Why?"
Chronos answered.
"It's an Anchor-Born. Dravai-type."
"That's supposed to mean something?"
"Think of it like a being tied to a concept. Memory. Regret. Time. It drags its truth behind it—and everything else eventually follows."
The entity didn't speak. Didn't twitch. Didn't even breathe.
It just watched.
Or maybe it was listening.
Or maybe the chamber was.
Shukan raised his hand, hesitating.
"Can it be killed?"
Yurei finally turned, looked him dead in the eyes.
"Not if it hasn't decided to exist for you yet."
Shukan squinted.
"...What the hell does that mean?"
Chronos cut in again.
"It means don't lie. Don't pretend to be something you're not. It sees through your stories. Through your edits. Through your 'good reasons.'"
Shukan lowered his hand.
"So what, I just... be myself?"
Yurei exhaled.
"No. You remember yourself. The real one. Even the parts you buried."
The Anchor-Born stepped once.
The anchor behind it rolled forward, a chain link landing with a sound that didn't echo.
It just landed.
Heavy.
Certain.
And then—
the glyphs on the wall started rearranging again.
Not glowing.
Just realigning.
Like they were reading something already happening.
Chronos looked back.
"If we're going to move... we move now."
"Before it starts testing us?" Aetheron asked.
Chronos shook his head.
"No. Before it decides we're worth the test."
Shukan stepped closer.
The image shimmered. Not to stop him. But to test him.
He stared.
At the buried object. At the cracked glyphs carved into the stone around it. At the body—his body—kneeling beside it.
Not dead.
Not dying.
Just… giving up.
"That never happened," he muttered.
"Doesn't have to," Chronos said. "It's showing possibility. Anchored regrets."
Shukan clenched a fist.
"So what's the test?"
"Figure out if you've let go of that weight," Yurei answered.
"And if I haven't?"
The anchor behind the entity twitched.
A pulse hit the floor.
Light dimmed slightly.
Chronos looked at him.
"Then it'll add you to the chain."
Aetheron dropped lower, finally landing.
Wings folded in.
"Alright. I've had enough of playing psychology bingo with gods."
"Same," Shukan grunted. "Can we move? Or are we waiting for another 'anchor to my trauma' light show?"
The Anchor-Born tilted its head.
No emotion. Just movement.
And then—
the image flickered out.
Gone.
The chamber walls shifted again.
Glyphs re-aligned into new spirals.
Chronos blinked once.
"It's letting us go."
"Just like that?" Shukan asked.
"No," Yurei said. "We passed."
Aetheron rolled his shoulders.
"Didn't even swing."
"Exactly," Chronos muttered. "Which is the only reason we're still breathing."
They moved.
Past the Anchor-Born.
It didn't follow.
But as they passed it— each of them felt something scrape across the back of their minds.
Not pain. Not pressure. Just... a feeling.
Like something heavy had been lifted for them—but they didn't know what yet.
Shukan exhaled once they were down the next hall.
"I fucking hate symbolism."
"You'd hate it more if you failed," Chronos replied.
Yurei walked behind them now.
She didn't speak.
She just looked down at her frost-arm, flexing it.
And whispered— more to herself than anyone else:
"It's not over. That wasn't the test. That was the invitation."